Review: Belong to Me

I finished Belong to Me by Marisa de los Sontos a little over a week ago, but for some reason forgot to post about it until now.  This novel reminded me of a nice (though not too extravagant) glass of wine you want to drink slowly so as to acknowledge its subtle pleasures and prolong the satisfying experience of tasting it.  As such, I read this book over the course of about three weeks, savouring every last sip.  

The protagonist is a delightful woman named Cornelia, with whom I want more than anything to be friends.  Finally someone else who obsesses over random movies from the '50s and ruins her reputation by blurting out *seemingly* brilliant quirks that fail miserably as jokes.  Why oh why oh why oh why do such people always have to be fictional?  

Belong to Me tells of Cornelia's constantly evolving relationships with her neighbour Piper, friend Lake, and Lake's son Dev.  The novel's themes are as old as humanity itself:  the search for belonging, the true meaning of family, the strength of love and friendship.  Yet the charming, believable characters allow these subjects to seem fresh and insightful.  In a nut shell, Cornelia moves to the suburbs with her husband Teo in hopes of replicating for her future children the charmed life she led as a child.  Instead, she is forced to re-think her idea of what a "perfect" family is.  The novel is not as harsh on suburbia as I was expecting it to be; instead of American Beauty-esq archetypal familial hatred, there are authentic depictions of how love can spring up in the most unexpected places.  By being open to this love and following their hearts no matter how difficult it may be to do so, the characters in the novel learn that true 'perfect homes' are built internally, fostered by mindful devotion to kindness in the face of compromise, compassion in the face of ridicule. 

I can't wait to read de los Sonto's first novel, Love Walked In, which I recently learned is also about Teo and Cornelia.

The gods just don't want me to make a sour cream and raisin pie...

Yeah, you read that right.  Sour cream and raisin pie.  I had never heard of it either.  Thus I was somewhat taken aback when I asked my dad what kind of dessert he wanted me to make for his Father's Day dinner and he hit me with sour cream and raisin pie.

 It turns out, however, that sour cream and raisin pies are not (as is popularly imagined) traditional fruit-style pies in which large quantities of raisins mixed with corn starch are baked inside a crust.  And no, the sour cream is not served on the top as ice cream is on other pies.  Instead, the sour cream, raisins, and cornstarch are all mixed together (along with sugar, nutmeg, and lemon juice) to create a custard like substance that turned out to be extremely tasty.  I know because I ingested copious amounts of it while mixing everything together.  A half-finished version of the one I attempted is pictured below (minus the meringue).  Why is there no photo of the finished product?  Well now there's a story.

You may also be curious as to why I am making the pie now - a full week after Father's Day.  You see, sour cream and raisin is the first pie I have ever attempted that requires the filling to be placed in a fully cooked crust.  So a week ago, I went about my business making the crust as usual, moulding it to the pie dish, and sticking it in the over.  To my horror, the crust started shrivelling up around the edges and bubbling in the middle.

At first I thought I'd done something wrong mixing the crust (too much water or something).  Then a friend referred me to these wonderful little marble-sized balls called pie weights:  you basically just put them at the bottom of the pie plate and they stop the bubbling.  Furthermore, I also learned the value of pricking the dough with a fork, so as to allow even distribution air and heat.

So, armed with my weights, I set out once again to try and make this elusive pie...

Alas, there was no sour cream and raisin pie -  on Father's Day or a week later.  Oh my dear reader I was so, so close!!!  Everything was assembled:  the (still slightly misshapen) crust was good enough to hold the surprisingly delectable custard, the oven was set to 400, ready to heat the pie and brown the tops of its finishing touch: the meringue.  I was whipping up the egg whites, sugar, and cream of tartar when all of a sudden I heard a big crash.  Upon turning around I was aghast with shock and despair.  Somehow, my beautiful MacBook (which I was using for the recipe) had fallen off the little living-room-to-kitchen window ledge and hit the pie on the counter below.  The crash I heard was both computer and pie meeting the floor.

By some miracle, the MacBook seems to have survived - I am, in fact, working on it now.  The sour cream and raisin pie, on the other hand, wasn't so fortunate.  In addition to being badly disfigured, we strongly suspect Stella helped herself to some of the custard while we were attending to the computer - and no one was too eager to try a sour cream, raisin, and dog slobber pie.

Don't worry, though, I haven't given up yet.  I may take a break from sour cream and raisin for a while (I've really been feeling strawberry rhubarb lately...).  But I promise to let you know if I ever am successful in making one.

As for the mysterious toppling of the computer?  For now I'm blaming the cat, but if I try and fail to make this pie again I may start to suspect something else...

Alice in Wonderland!

Take a look at these fabulous images from Tim Burton's upcoming adaptation of Alice in Wonderland starring Anne Hatheway and Johnny Depp.  I'm super excited about this one!!

Frosty

I have a confession to make:  I always thought Robert Frost was a bit of a sentimental hack - a sort of grade eight training poet, if you will.  Lately, however, I find myself strangely drawn to him.  Maybe it's because I've become more sentimental myself.  Or perhaps you need a certain amount of life experience before his poetry can truly resonate.  At this moment in my life, I'm faced with some pretty tough decisions, and can't stop thinking about "The Road Not Taken".  The thought of the non-metaphorical road not taken in my own future scares me perhaps more than anything else in the world.  Take the line "I shall be telling this with a sigh/ Somewhere ages and ages hence" - it's not so much the immediate consequences of the decisions I must make that get to me, but how I will look back on my choices in the future.  I want to be satisfied with my life "ages and ages hence", but know it's impossible to live without regrets.

Moreover, my new inner mantra seems to have become "miles to go before I sleep"; repeating it over and over in my head all day provides the sense of urgency required to triumph over the inertia of inaction that has ruled my life for the past two years.

My new favourite quote is also by Frost:  "happiness makes up in height what it lacks in length".  It's such a beautiful, melancholy thought - the kind of thing you don't recognize as being true before someone points it out.  It is, after all, the memories of good times that make bad times (or even boring, blah times) bearable.  And let's face it, most of us have more boring, blah, and bad times than good times.  Or maybe that's just the wrong attitude entirely...

Review: Away We Go

So, I finally made it to the theatre this weekend...and to see a movie I've been looking forward to for quite a while, none the less.  Away We Go tells of an expectant couple, Verona and Burt (Maya Rudolph and Jon Krasinski), who travel across North America in hopes of finding a good home to raise their daughter.  Ideally, they are seeking a place where they will be surrounded by friends and family.  Unfortunately, all prospective contacts are in some way severely flawed:  Burt's parents are immature, materialistic fools; Verona's friend Lily has turned into a loud-mouthed redneck; their friends from college are dejected and pitiable due to multiple miscarriages; Burt's cousin LN and her husband are loopy New Age ninnies; Burt's brother is heartbroken due to his wife walking out him and his daughter.  All represent possible futures for Verona and Burt.  None are remotely appealing.

Generally, I really like movies like Away We Go.  I enjoy artsy films with colourful characters and mellow, off-beat soundtracks.  That said, I was a tad disappointed in this movie.  Sure, it's unpredictable and fun to watch (you never know what kind of pathetic loser you're going to be introduced to next).  There's just something about the overly-emphasized awfulness of the supporting characters that misses its mark.  This attention to caricatures worked for Sam Mendes in American Beauty, but comes very close to falling flat here - possibly due to the fact that many of them have absolutely no redeemable qualities.  Either way, the film could have benefited from a little subtly on the repulsive supporting character front.

That said, Verona and Burt themselves are extremely likable characters.  As they are a pair of not-so-successful thirtysomethings, it's pretty much impossible to hate them for appearing too perfect next to their pathetic social network.  I left the theatre with a huge crush on Jon Krasinski - possibly because his character reminded me so much of my husband I just had to give him (Steve) a great big kiss when the movie was over and hold his hand all the way home.  Parts of Away We Go (i.e. the parts with only Verona and Burt) are heart-warming without seeming cheesy.  I suppose the awful experiences the couple has with their friends and family do succeed in producing this effect.  However, I still think this could have been done just as poignantly turned down a few notches.  Anyway, the movie is certainly worth seeing if, like me, you enjoy quirky artsy films.

The Most Random Pillow Ever

This photo made me laugh - to think that someone just woke up one day and thought "gee, I think Obama eating an ice cream cone would be a great image to put on a pillow".  The strange thing is, it works.  I would totally buy this pillow - and probably sleep on it every night too, in hopes of promoting good vibes.

Image by Kevin McGoff, photo via Mint.

Scarlett Sans Makeup

Recently, Scarlett Johansson posed for French Elle wearing minimal makeup.  I say good for her!  I only wish I looked that good all made up!  I'm told I have an unhealthy fascination with Scarlett, but hey, a girl can dream!

One Is The Loneliest Number

Alright alright alright, I promise I won't start posting only what I write for Helium.  I actually questioned whether I should post this here, as it's waaaaay more personal than what I usually blog about.  (The topic is "Pros and Cons of Being an Only Child").  Unfortunately, I don't have the energy to come up with anything else at the moment, so here it is.

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As an only child, here’s my take on the pros and cons of my sibling-less status:

Pros

-       From a financial/materialistic perspective, you have it all.

 As much as I hate being told I’m “lucky” to not have to put up with siblings, I must concede that only children are, in the most superficial of respects, lucky.  You get your own room, your own pets, copious amounts of gifts at Christmas, etc.  Free from the ‘burden’ of multiple children, parents are better able to help out financially during the university years, as well as that awkward transition from studenthood to adulthood. 

 

-       You develop an entirely different relationship with your parents compared to children with siblings.

This may not be in the ‘pro’ section for everyone, but for me it definitely is.  Without other siblings to compete with, an only child’s relationship with his or her parents can feel more equal in nature; their interests often become your interests, and a kind of closeness develops that is less likely to manifest when there are other kids around competing for affection.

Cons

-       You develop entirely different relationships with others your own age compared to people with siblings.

This point hits very close to home for me.  Don’t get me wrong – I’m not a loner, nor have I ever had a problem developing meaningful relationships.  I am, however, uncomfortable in situations where I’m supposed to be funny and giggly.  As a child, I was always better at talking to adults than kids my own age.  I always thought that when I became an adult myself, this would no longer be a problem for me.   I find, however, that few things make me more nervous than other twenty-somethings (especially female twenty-somethings).  I’m not sure if this is because I’m an only child, or if it’s an innate personality trait.  I do feel, however, that growing up with siblings could have helped in this department.

 

-       You’re your parents’ only hope.

As an only child, it’s all on you to be the successful one in the family.  No matter how old I get, I can’t shake the feeling that my parents are fascinated by me -unconditionally proud of the fact that I am their daughter.  On one hand, I really, really don’t want to disappoint them.  On the other, I know they will be proud of me no matter what, and don’t want to think of them as fools who are proud of me for nothing.  The constant focus on my success can provide momentum when I’m on a winning streak, but it can also be crippling during not-so-great times.

Personally, don’t want to raise an only child.  I feel that the cons outweigh the pros, largely due to the fact that social skills are arguably the most important aspect of anyone’s life.  I’m not trying to say that being an only child ensures one’s status as a socially awkward bore.  I just want my kids to be able to embrace life with the sort of carefree joy I’ve always wished I had.

Top Five Books Everyone Should Read

I was recently persuaded to join the website Helium.  It's a little daunting, but when I saw they were looking for posts on "top five books everyone should read" I figured I'd found my niche and jumped right in.  Here's my post.

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I spent a lot of time reading as a child, and even more in university as a student of literature.  These days I work full time, and as a result find it difficult to read as much as I’d like to.  I find, however, that my personality and general outlook on the world have been profoundly shaped by the fictional stories and characters that have remained such an integral part of my consciousness.  It’s difficult to pick a definitive top five, but here's my attempt, in no particular order:

1)      Anne of Green Gables – This classic book by Lucy Maud Montgomery was originally given to me by my Nan, a native of Prince Edward Island, to read on a family road trip down east.  As a ten-year-old, I was inspired by Anne’s spirit and passion for life, and delighted by the engaging, heart-warming story.  As a twenty-five year old, I am still both those things, but now also recognize the novel’s beautiful representation of true family love (conventional or not), as well as its wealth of timeless and impressionable images (e.g., a little girl with red pig-tails sitting alone at a train station, Anne breaking a slate over Gilbert’s head, etc).

 

2)      A Christmas Carol – Adaptations of the original Charles Dickens novel have become such a touchstone of our culture that on the surface it might seem like a waste of time to read the actual book.  I assure you, however, it’s not.  Dickens has such a distinct, memorable style of writing, and everyone should read at least one of his books.  I chose A Christmas Carol for this list because it’s so classic and well known (again, I’m a sucker for timeless images), but my personal favourite Dickens novel is probably Great Expectations.

 

3)      Alice Munro’s Best – The recent collection of short stories by one of my favourite authors makes the cut because this list is not long enough to include all of Munro’s work.  More than any other contemporary author, Munro has the ability to see deeply into the human experience and express it in writing.  Whenever I read her, I almost always discover something new about myself (or at least I’m forced to acknowledge something I was too afraid or embarrassed of to face up to on my own).  The compilation includes many of her most memorable stories, and is perfect for those who do not intend to read her individual books.  Everyone, however, should read the individual books too.  I like Who Do You Think You Are? and Runaway, best but all are excellent.

 

4)      King Lear – It’s not technically a book, but King Lear is my all time favourite play (possibly even my favourite literary work of any variety).  Anyone who has ever watched a parent or grandparent descend into the confused, grotesque haze of old age will find it remarkably cathartic.  Shakespeare’s treatment of family relationships is almost chillingly accurate, not to mention the beautiful language and structure common to all his plays.

 

5)     Lolita – This novel is a personal favourite of mine.  It is at once controversial and amusing, naughty and engrossing.  I think it’s important for all readers to experience things that are on some level offensive.  In Lolita, Nabokov offends his readers with an ironic subtly that leaves them laughing at how appalling it all is.

 

Well, that’s my list folks.  I hope it inspires you to fall in love with some of these books…for the first time or all over again!

Pissed Off Tennis Players

It's the heart of tennis season, and even though there's no major grand slam going on at the moment I'm still feeling a little racket crazy.  Here are some funny photos I found at Life Galleries.

1) Ahhh McEnroe.  Classic thrower of fits turned mildly amusing tennis announcer.  Here he is telling it to an umpire at the 1980 Wimbledon.

2)  Apparently, this is Arnaud Clement competing for the Surbiton Trophy in 2008.  I don't know too much about the player or the tournament, but I enjoy how Travis Bickle-esq this photo is (I can almost hear him saying 'bang...bang' under his breath.  Only there aren't not enough pimps and hoes).

3)  "As I was saying, the ball clearly fell on the line.  Those grumpy faces don't constitute an argument, you know.  Prove to me it was out.  Just prove it.  You can't, can you?  See, I'm right."  (Martina Hingis, 1999 French)

4) "Oh back off bitch.  The answer is no."

(Sara Errani, 2009 French)

5)  "Duhhh...I'm Andy Roddick".  I'm not sure if angry is the word I would use to describe him in this photo, but Steve and I don't like Roddick so I'm posting it here anyway.

(Imagining) A Taste of Summer

I was feeling down today.  Then I saw this photo at the wonderful food blog Tartelette.

Living with Grace and Style

After over a year of contemplation I finally bought the book What Would Audrey Do? by Pamela Keogh.  As much as I adore Audrey, I was initially reluctant to purchase the book because it sounded a little too self-help-esq for my comfort.  However, I recently heard it described as a biography, and figured that made it ok.  Not to mention I picked it up in the style section (right next to 'self help', but what can you do?).  I spent part of the evening reading the first few chapters, and am already in love.  Here's a little excerpt featuring advice I look forward to applying to my daily life.

Audrey Essentials

1) Wear mascara.

2) Stand up straight.

3) Get your clothes tailored.

4) Lower your voice.

5) When in doubt, love.

6) Be generous.

7) Don't kiss and tell.

8) Forgive.

9) Turn around and check the back of your reflection in the mirror before you leave the house.

10) Smile.

Full Fat Joy

Several days ago I was inspired by this post at Slow Like Honey (also the source of the above photo) to face up to the fact that I simply do not enjoy fat free yogurt.  Yes, I have been buying and eating it for longer than I care to admit.  Yes, it is technically an ideal mid-morning or after work snack.  But the fact of the matter is, it just tastes bad.  I mean, it's really not good.  Who cares if it's only 35 calories per serving?  You may as well be eating sweet 'n low infused air.  It's hard to believe I lived the past 25 years of my life without experiencing the taste explosion that is full fat yogurt...until yesterday.  Although I haven't yet graduated to the Oikos brand Amanda mentions, I thoroughly enjoyed some Danone Creamy Vanilla.  And whadya know?  I can now honestly call myself a yogurt fan. 

On that note, here's a list of other foods I will not, from this day forth, pretend to like:

- Boneless skinless chicken breasts - convenient, yes, but they're so easy to overcook usually end up tough and tasteless.

- Splenda - I have it in my coffee every morning, but am increasingly bothered by the fizzing noise it makes when it hits the liquid.  Plus, it's nearly impossible to achieve anything resembling the desired level of sweetness (usually the coffee ends up way too sweet).

- Chocolate ice cream - I love chocolate.  I love ice cream.  I love little bits of chocolate in ice cream.  But not chocolate ice cream.  Figure that one out. 

- Potatoes - they're just sooooo filling, not to mention tasteless unless you immerse them in fatty and/or salty and/or sugary substances.  Even then, they're still kind of tasteless.

 - Omlettes - eggs are one of my favourite foods.  But only when they're all runny in the middle and you can dip buttered toast in them.  Not six of them fully cooked mushed together with other highly caloric breakfast foods.  I'm sorry, but that's just disgusting.

 - The vast majority of salad dressings - just give me some plain old aged balsamic.  Unless it's that tasty dressing on the house salad at Lotus Heart Blossoms.

Wow...I feel so liberated.

"Once I Wanted To Be The Greatest"

Now I'm happy to live vicariously through those who are.

Hooray for Roger Federer for finally winning at Roland Garros!  I don't know what I love most about Fed:  his genuinely sweet, gracious personality, or his unparalleled talent on the court.  He's an all around class act, and seeing nice guys and gals finish first always makes my day.  Kudos to Robin Soderling for playing an amazing tournament and coming in second.  In particular, his win against Nadal last week was one of the most memorable games I've seen in a long time.  I look forward to cheering on both players in a few short weeks at Wimbledon.

Take Another Little Piece of My Heart

Sigh...yes I know I've been neglectful of my blog lately.  I've been a tad preoccupied with "real world" distractions.  I promise to make it up to you this weekend and next week.  In the meantime, enjoy some cake.

grave/junk/yard

I love these images of abandoned signs from the Las Vegas strip (found at chickpeastudio's photostream).  They're so melancholy and rejected, and in many ways sum up my mood of late.